


Damnum

by WhatsATerrarium



Series: The Craziest Board Game of 1973 [5]
Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 05:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20652173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatsATerrarium/pseuds/WhatsATerrarium
Summary: She was at war, and she had lost this battle.





	Damnum

**Author's Note:**

> So, I’ve deleted my old account and am starting over! I’ve orphaned about half of my own works and am re-posting the rest!

It hurts. It hurts more than she really knows how to express. More than she wants to admit. Hera learned to stop questioning it when she cried at night, to stop offering comfort. She doesn’t sleep much anymore. She definitely didn’t sleep at all the first few nights. Zero-g wasn’t too good for crying into your pillow. It was slightly uncomfortable, but there she was, arms and legs wrapped around the largest pillow she could find, face buried into it, as though this would somehow help.

Hilbert was the first to comment on the hair, surprisingly enough. Lovelace has likely assumed it was just for practicality. Hera probably thought it was her needing a change. The station’s resident evil scientist was the only who recognized it for what it was, plain and simple: utter self loathing, a clear cry for help.

She had worn a braid for as long as she could remember. It wasn’t hard to see that she was very fond of her hair.  _ She was quite sure Hera had joked about it behind her back with- _

She didn’t deserve comfort anymore. Didn’t deserve to keep her hair around as a luxury. In a way, Lovelace would have been right, because she no longer deserved anything other than practicality. She was at war, and she had lost this battle. She had failed. She needed to do her goddamn job and this was going to make it easier by a minuscule amount, her feelings and comfort be damned.

He had looked her up and down before clearing his throat and speaking in a low voice. “This is not your fault commander.”

“Shut your goddamn mouth.”

“Minkowski-“

“I’ve already told you, I don’t want  _ you  _ on my side.” She pushes off the wall and started back toward her quarters. It was still odd not feeling her hair floating behind her.

_ She was at war, and she had lost this battle.  _ She wasn’t even sure who her enemy was, or rather, who her enemy wasn’t. Goddard was sure as hell her enemy. Lovelace definitely wasn’t her ally. Hilbert was her enemy. Whatever was out there was her enemy. She was her own enemy on most days. She’d try to take deep breaths, remind herself she wasn’t alone.  _ You were never enemies with Hera. You were never really enemies with- _

She wouldn’t let herself think when she cried. Wouldn’t let herself acknowledge what was wrong. It was just a biological need, purging it all from her system. She remembered what Hera has said about  _ those humans and their pesky biology.  _ She was right. Her pesky human biology was what made her cry at night. What made her go still in the communications room, nearly curled up into a ball for no reason whatsoever. Her goddamn pesky biology was what made her fall apart. She wonders how Hilbert does it. How he can not give a damn about every person he kills. How he can sit there, emotionless.  _ There must be a flaw in his biology. _

_ Or maybe there’s just a flaw in hers. _

“Bridge. Fourteen hundred hours,” she voiced over the comms system, almost monotone.

“Wh-Why, commander?” Hera questioned.

“We’re having a funeral.”

There was a long silence before Lovelace’s quiet breath of ‘Okay’ echoed across the station, followed by a quick ‘Roger’ from Hilbert. For the first time since the contact event, she actually knew what her crew was thinking. They were worried about her. It wasn’t their business.

  
  


***

  
  


“Does anyone want to say anything?” her voice was the same as before. Bleak. Drab. Tired. Emotionless. “Right, commander should go first.” She opens her mouth. She speaks. And no one comments on the fact that they’ve heard this speech before. “Doug Eiffel is gone.”  _ My best friend is gone.  _ “There was nothing we could do to save him.”  _ I should have tried harder.  _ “It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”  _ It was all my fault.  _ “It was horrible, and pointless, and it just happened.”  _ I’d do anything to go back and stop it. It should have been me.  _ “Just like the cracks, and the station just keeps falling apart.”  _ I’m falling apart.  _ “And there’s nothing I can do, I am sorry.”  _ I’m supposed to fix this. This is my responsibility.  _ “I’m sorry.”  _ I miss you, Doug.  _ She takes a deep breath. “I miss you, Doug.”

  
  


_ On day 682 of the Hephaestus mission, Doug Eiffel left _

_ On day 782 of the Hephaestus mission, Renèe Minkowski realized he was gone for good. _

_ On day 864 of the Hephaestus mission, Doug Eiffel came back. _

**Author's Note:**

> So a big reason why I don't usually leave comments is that it doesn’t feel like a conversation, it feels too definite. So, as opposed to asking you to leave comments (which I do still very much appreciate and will respond to if that’s your thing), I’m going to let you know how to contact me!
> 
> Instagram: whats_a_terrarium  
Discord: whats_a_terrarium#0251  
Tumblr: whats-a-terrarium  
Twitter: whatsaterrarium
> 
> If you have any thoughts, ideas, constructive criticism, or just want to ramble, never hesitate! :)


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